


In the Night

by masterofstars



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Creampie, Drug Use, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Penis In Vagina Sex, Public Sex, Scion Hanzo Shimada, Trans Genji Shimada, but he likes it i promise, only because genji is fucked up beyond recognition for a lot of it, safeword referenced but not used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 16:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofstars/pseuds/masterofstars
Summary: One of his hands reaches out. It feels like reaching out into nothingness. Some big, empty space in front of him so far away from the firm press of the body atop his own.Somehow, Hanzo always manages to pull him back from that.





	In the Night

The change from dance floor to tile makes for a sticky feeling under a pair of high-top sneakers. Versace, First Idol Leather. No less than a thousand dollars, and still somehow looking brand new even after a night in the filthy club. The deep bass of the club’s music mix comes through the floor, the walls, the air as if it it’s the building’s pulse. The lights flash between electric blue, magenta, bright green, blinding red. The entire lower floor is flooded with people trying to move through, or dance, or merely get their drink from one of the bartenders scattered across the length of the bar. The bar itself is a sleek, reflective black marble that feels cold beneath his skin when the young heir leans his elbows forwards onto it. The netted fabric of his shirt presses into his arms and he knows that when he arches even further forwards it will ride up his back towards the form fitting black crop top beneath it. The eyes on him feel physical. The thought alone makes shivers dance up his spine. 

In front of him, one of the handsome young men in the mandatory white dress shirt and cute black bowtie comes towards him. Fast service - a perk of being easily recognized in his ‘realm’ as he so fondly calls it often. The short black hair and lazy grin on the man’s face is a pretty thing to behold, so it’s rewarded. Stretching onto his very tip-toes, the space of the bar between them is cut and the lipgloss on his lips sticks to the bottom lip of the bartender.

“A round of shots and a zombie to my table, please?” The request is loud enough to be heard over the music, but quiet enough for it to be just between the two men. It’s sugary sweet, and too suggestive for how simple it is.

Yet, the bartender doesn’t hesitate to break the rules. A hand comes up to trace fingers over a striking jawline, condensation from drinks making them slightly cold. Another shiver races through him. “Of course, Mister Shimada.”

A grin spreads over bubblegum pink lips. So complacent, so easy. The man doesn’t take anymore risks while on shift, and Genji is all too happy to get swallowed back up in the throw of people. There are light and brief touches all through the journey back towards the black velvet ropes, but none of them capture his attention. None of them deserve it, he thinks with another lazy, pleased grin. The few steps up to the V.I.P. area are carpeted, and a gloved hand is helpfully held out for him by one of the black-tie guards on either side of the rope. Giggles are hardly contained as it’s opened and pulled back for him, letting him into the plush stretch of luxury he made his home on nights like this. 

Black leather sofas frame crystal glass tables, all scattered in glasses and other party favors. The floor beneath him is swathed in crushed velvet as are some of the chairs that hold the rich, elite, and dangerous men and women of Hanamura. Genji’s walk is confident and each sway of his hips is calculated as he makes his way back to his entourage. The gazes of men only feed his ego that much more when the faces are familiar. The ones who he’s seen sitting across the expanse of tables and arguing trades and deals at the Shimada estate… Well, those are the ones that truly thrill him down to his core. 

The group of young people that sit at his reserved table all pull their attention to him when he waltzes up to them. Voices shout and say excited, shrill things to him overtop of the strong, dirty beat that pounds through all their ears. A girl at his side, Sana, places graceful, dainty hands on his exposed hips and wiggles them from behind with a spout of giggles, while the rest of them raise mostly empty glasses for one more incoherent toast. The room spins just slightly when Genji is jostled around and without even thinking his head tips back into his friend’s shoulder with all the ease of someone familiar - or someone with enough chemicals running through them that everything feels comfortable. Lips glide over his skin on his neck and the heat in his face comes as a pleasant accompaniment to his high. There’s no guilt in the way that he stares elsewhere so obviously. 

Sat on the couch before them both, onyx eyes bore into his. Thick eyebrows are heavy-set above them, and when Genji’s lips part in a moan one of them raises slow and methodical. Calm, always so calm these days. It does nothing to stop the young heir. In fact, one could say it encourages him. Heat builds between slim hips and a hand full of flashy rings and bracelets comes up to hook around Sana’s neck. Their mouths collide in a messy clash of tongue and teeth when the girl is dragged down into the kiss. Eager, as his friends always are, she returns the sentiment until Genji lands on his back onto the cool, slightly sticky surface of their table. Glasses and who knows what else fall to the floor in clinks and crashes. One of the others just barely manages to grab up a bong by its neck before it can meet its end along with the rest of the mess. 

“Careful!” Someone calls out through laughter, and Genji doesn’t have the mind to respond. Any wit is being sucked off his tongue by the woman who now resides on top of him. His fingers dig into soft flesh under her tight jeans and hips slot into place against his own. Pleasure comes in little blimps on the radar, and he knows he moans, but… not enough. It’s not enough. 

It hurts to crane his neck back on the glass, and his back arches along with the movement. It’s all worth it to see the ever-composed figure sitting there - legs crossed, a hand swishing some amber drink around in a glass, and eyes still trained on Genji, even if it’s an upside view. Arousal, real and overwhelming, pushes his hips up from the table to be followed by the pretty, light moans of the pretty thing above him. One of the hands that had been feeling up the thighs on either side of his hips now reaches out. It feels like reaching out into nothingness. Some big, empty space in front of him so far away from the firm press of the body atop his own. 

Somehow, Hanzo always manages to pull him back from that. The hand that grasps his own is big, rough from training, and it weighs Genji down enough to bring him back to earth. The one silver ring on his brother’s finger clacks against his own array when fingers are slid to fit in the spaces between his. A squeeze is given. All of it feels magnified, intense, acute. He’s getting the grind of his life, but it’s nothing compared to the touch of skin against skin he’s getting lost in from the man who watches him so closely. 

“More?” Genji doesn’t bother to raise his voice. His gaze is locked with Hanzo’s while a thumb crosses over the side of his hand in lazy strokes. His brother’s face goes from lightly amused to contemplative as he reads the word on Genji’s lips. Smaller fingers move over his stomach, above the mesh shirt, and his muscles tense under the featherlight touches. They move up over his chest and to the bare skin of his neck, where manicured nails drag along his pulse. Pink? No, she had gotten something else than the usual at their appointment that week. 

The thought distracts Genji too easily. Hanzo’s hold on his hand becomes cruel until hazy brown eyes focus back up on him. He watches as the loose strands of long, sleek black bangs move when Hanzo leans down enough to be able to properly whisper into his ear. His voice comes out low and tempting, smooth as the alcohol he favors. “I think you have had enough, sparrow.”

Dark lashes flutter and Genji feels the whine from his throat more than he hears it. The chuckle next to his ear affirms it. It’s torturous, and the way it pulls arousal through him makes his head spin. 

Above him, Sana follows with a barely contained giggle. Both men settle their gazes on her where she’s sat up on Genji’s lap. Her eyes are deep pools of black, and the flush on her face matches the bright, fluorescent pink that colors her eyelids. 

“Something you would like to add?” Hanzo raises his voice for her with a limited amusement on his face. His willingness to entertain their friends wims is always a gamble. A risky game to play. 

The woman knows the game. Her long hair is flipped over her shoulder with a hand while the other traces swirls over Genji’s sternum. “He hasn’t started begging yet.”

The hum from the eldest Shimada brother isn’t audible, but Genji can imagine it as he focuses his attention back on him. He can imagine the feeling of it rumbling through the vocal cords under the smooth skin of his neck, can almost feel it as if it were under his hand. “He hasn’t, has he?” Hanzo glances back down at where Genji is lightly panting. When did it start getting hotter?

“Open.” The command comes out so naturally. Hanzo doesn’t hesitate to order him, and that alone makes him want to obey that much more. He can taste the strawberry tint, and sugary excess from all his drinks, when he slides his tongue from his mouth. It’s an awkward angle with how he’s laid, but the little square of paper is placed on his tongue as competently as ever. “Good boy.”

The praise is delivered directly to the shell of his ear with a hot breath ghosted afterwards. Closing his mouth again, Genji let’s his eyes fall closed as the substance melts into nothing on his tongue. For a moment the colors that flash even behind his eyelids become too bright and chaotic, and when he opens them he rushes to look at Hanzo once more. 

“Anija,” He slurs. His other hand leaves his friend’s leg and vys for more of his brother, shamelessly grabbing at a leg of the finely pressed black dress pants. 

Watching Hanzo sit back against the plush of the couch again is strange from where Genji is seeing it. Something about it is off, but he can’t care enough to place it when the legs in front of him uncross and part so he’s sitting so temptingly. Powerful, with hair slicked back and his vest adorned with silver that glints in the constant lights. And his eyes - always on him. Genji’s boxers are ruined already. “Yes?” Hanzo asks as if he has no idea what he’s doing. 

“You,” Genji tries to start but ends up having to swallow down too much saliva. “I want… Please, I need…”

It’s hardly anything, yet it seems to be enough to please. A look and a wave of a hand is all that’s needed for the weight and pressure on Genji’s hips to disappear. Paranoia creeps up to the idea that with his legs open, his enthusiasm is on display to everyone through the whitewash denim that clings to his figure. The thought doesn’t last long when the hand laced with his moves and he starts to be guided into sitting up by a grip on the back of his neck. Something that should panic him, but the tight grip is his saviour as he gets his barings on the glass surface. 

“Come on.” Deep tones urge him forwards. His feet stumble and drag clumsily, making a smile cross Hanzo’s face that only grows when he falls into his lap. Loose and heavy, with limbs that are so easy to guide to where he wants them. Genji’s arms end up on his shoulders, around his neck, as kisses are placed over the glitter on the green-haired man’s face. Hanzo’s drink has seemingly disappeared when he wasn’t paying attention and now both hands have a firm hold on his ass to keep him pressed to the front of Hanzo. There’s no fight. No struggle. Genji melts into the hold and the security it offers in the ocean of toxic concoctions. 

“That was quick.” Hanzo says. If it’s teasing, that intent passes right over Genji’s head. His voice is too close to actually pay much attention to the words that accompany it. It warms him and swallows him up until he feels like he might be glowing. 

All Genji manages is a hum. Luckily, his brother understands. One of the hands on his ass slides along his spine up under the shirt that could hardly be called such. Strong fingers rub into skin and muscle and if it’s possible Genji becomes even more boneless. “Are you here with me?” 

The question makes him smile. It rings in his ears with all the past times his brother has asked it. Different clubs, different people, different positions but always the same softness. “Yes.” He fibs and brushes fingers over the short, soft hairs at the back of Hanzo’s neck. 

Everything but Hanzo has become mute. None of it matters, and if he had to actually acknowledge it, Genji knows from experience that it would overwhelm him something fierce. But he doesn’t have to. Not yet. Vaguely he can hear the small crowd around them getting rowdy as new drinks are delivered, but it isn’t something he’s interested in. Neither is Hanzo from how his gaze never wavers from Genji’s face. He’s watching him to see how truthful the answer was, he knows it. That’s fine. 

Genji thinks that if he doesn’t get anything tonight, just this would be okay.

* * *

 

“They are looking, sparrow.” The statement is too composed for Genji to understand. How can Hanzo keep his voice so steady? How did he even notice anyone else right now? Perfectly styled brows pull together and pull upwards in a grimace of pleasure on Genji’s face. 

The music has died down from the force of the blood pounding in his ears. The lights assault him behind his eyelids as brightly as they do when his eyes are open, and somehow he manages to not be blinded when they flutter back open. It’s a good thing, too, since he can’t imagine how disappointing it would be to miss the sight before him. 

If eyes were on him before when he had walked through the section, they are  _ glued  _ now. Almost all the attention is held on him, save for the few that are trying to make it seem like they aren’t watching, and their own group. Every so often someone will whistle or shout something derogatory or some demeaning request, but otherwise their entourage is used to it. They have all heard the sounds from the two crime lords enough times for the starstruck quality of their reactions to fade into teasing and fun remarks. After all, they had already known the deprived nature of their drunken prince. Adding the elder to the mix hadn’t held surprise for long. 

No, it’s the others who don’t get to see it often. Within the walls of the Shimada castle, or on business trips to other empires, the two are impeccable. The air that follows them is thick with danger the moment they enter a room. Both smartly dressed and speaking with sharp tongues, they make it known that there will be no tolerance for any wrong glances or misplaced words. Making an example of those who didn’t follow their wishes has made them nigh untouchable within their domain. No one would dare to think about them as anything other than the sharp, deadly men they are. Yet…

None of them would pass up the opportunity to get an eyeful of them together like this. With Genji’s back arched against Hanzo’s front, his chest pushes forward with each frenzied breath that is gasped into his lungs. The column of his neck glimmers and glistens with the thin sheen of sweat that covers the quickly blossoming bruises there as he keeps it bared. Hanzo’s legs are spread enough to keep his own open wide even as they tremble and shake uncontrollably. His pants and boxers are left long forgotten on the couch beside them. Completely bare from the waist down, so his inner thighs covered in his arousal, and rubbed red from the fabric of Hanzo’s pants, are on full view. Not to mention the stretch of his folds, a pretty pink the same as his blush -  wet and tight around the thickness of his brother’s cock as it’s pounded into him. 

The pace is slow, he knows, but the feeling of each deep thrust is almost too much. Deep inside of him the press of Hanzo’s length is punishing. The ache of it is glorious. It has to be right up against his cervix, it  _ has  _ to be. His head swarms with pleasure each time Hanzo’s hands force his hips down in order to take him in. The eyes on him make it worse, better, indescribable. It’s all too much and not enough, and when Hanzo kisses at his jaw from behind he can feel tears start to gather. Somehow, distantly, he thinks of how it’s going to ruin his eyeliner that he spent so long on. 

“Otōto… With me?” Hanzo breathes against his neck right under the line of his jaw, and he nods carefully. 

“Safeword?” The second clarification takes more time to properly think about. Did he want the onslaught to stop…? No. He shakes his head and a strand of his green locks comes free from their gelled hold to swipe over his forehead. 

Behind him, Genji can feel the nod. A kiss is placed on his shoulder and then his world is torn apart at the seams as Hanzo bucks up and holds his hips down. Involuntary little jerks cause Genji to grind down into it and feel where the head of Hanzo’s dick rubs insistently up inside of him. He cries out, and the resulting cooes from the other are soft and sweet against his ear. 

“Do you want to cum in front of them? Do you want them to see how much of a slut you are for your own brother?” Hanzo huffs the vulgar questions between thrusts. “Should I let you?” 

“Yes!” Genji shouts his answer in an adoring, broken tone. His fingers curl where they’re buried deep in Hanzo’s short hair. Everything feels feverish as his pleasure builds higher and higher, coiling red hot around the cock buried inside him. 

“Yes  _ what?”  _ Hanzo demands as his hold leaves visible bruises on his little brother’s hips. 

A whimper is choked out of Genji at the realization of his slip up. “Please, please! Yes, please!” He begs, tongue suddenly not working as well as he trips over the words. 

In what feels like a flash, big muscular arms are wrapped around his torso to pull him flush against Hanzo’s chest. Feeling how Hanzo breathes is unreal, filling his attention so fully that it dizzies him. A hand digs into one of his pecs through the tight shirt and the other squeezes around him. It relaxes him enough to go limp in the hold and let Hanzo really take control of it all - no squirming or pushing back for more. 

“I have you. You will wait until I let you.”

It’s not a question but Genji nods anyways. What little is left of his focus goes to pushing back the unbearable pressure that threatens to push him over the edge with each time Hanzo moves. The world narrows into just that - doing this for Hanzo. Being good for him. The sounds around them fade in and out, but the hot, heavy breath at his shoulder stays. Faintly Genji can feel the tears overflow and slip down his cheeks. The first treacherous twitch of his walls around the hot cock make him cry harder. 

Behind him, Hanzo shushes him. The sound shakes. “Not yet.”

The harsh pace doesn’t let up and Genji doesn’t try to keep back his distressed moans. It’s useless, there’s no way. The hard throbs of his clit match the relentless tightening that they both feel. 

“A-anija! I can’t, I’m going to cum!” It’s urgent, but it’s quiet and desperate. Only for Hanzo to hear. The very real possibility of going against his brother’s wishes stings at his pride and something even further inside himself. 

“No, sparrow, you aren’t.” Hanzo bites the words out as if his will alone will stop the need that passes threatening and pushes at Genji’s very consciousness. His eyes roll back and his breath hitches. It can’t be possible but it feels like for a brief moment his heart may actually stop beating. It all stands still for an indeterminate amount of time and the only thing to rouse his attention back to the present is a throaty grunt from just below his ear. 

“Now,” The one word overtakes Genji’s senses. The rest is drowned out by the force behind the orgasm that overtakes him. Fire courses through him before bliss washes out the flames. Warmth spreads through him and he’s vaguely aware of what it means to feel the thick, warm feeling settle below his belly. The haze that follows fills his head with cotton. When his eyes open its to a new wetness splashed over the table in front of him and a few of the figures around them hollering and moving in ways the further his dizziness. 

Genji decides on closing them again. He misses the exact moment when his boxers are pulled back on, or when he’s raised into the air in Hanzo’s arms - only sure that they are his brother’s because of the unmistakable smell laced into the soft dress shirt, and the words spoken that drift into Genji’s comprehension. Not for him, though. Promises; business chatter about what is to come for the men in suits should they accept the hefty price of a deal with the Shimada clan.

It all warps in and out until the sounds are replaced with ringing in his ears and the steady, quiet purr of an engine. The fingers that thread through his hair are more than welcome, and the thigh under his cheek makes for a good pillow for the time being. At least until Hanzo will carry him to the privacy of their room and let Genji properly pass out between the clean, familiar bedsheets.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! this is a quick oneshot that i did for a break during my other fics that i have in the works, mostly because my playlist shuffled to too much weeknd music and i got inspired. hope you liked it <3


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